Dreamcatcher
by orangeflavor
Summary: She was like water.   Only, she never thought herself so.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: Set anywhere you feel comfortable placing it. I must admit, I don't think I've ever emphasized with Molly as much as I do right here. She's normally not one of the main characters that I have insights into. But when I saw this moment in her life, I was faced with a Molly I had never thought about before, and I needed to understand this part of her that I suddenly couldn't tear myself away from.

Dreamcatcher

"_She was like water. Only, she never thought herself so."_

Molly Weasley had a dream catcher.

But if you ever asked her about it, she would deny it whole-heartedly, afraid Arthur would rag on her about her henpecking him for his tinkering with muggle toys and here she was hording away a dreamcatcher.

Arthur would be so enthralled, she knew, and he would ask her what it was, ask her about the legend, try to dismantle it and put it back together with the glee of a child. She didn't want that though, and was too wary of him never being able to put it back together for her to ever let him know about it in the first place.

So she kept it tucked away in her pockets, in her apron, or her dress, or the deeply hidden compartments of her robes when she would go on a mission for the Order.

The round frame was made of willow wood, pulled together with knotted sinew. The web inside was made of the same type of sinew string and weaved intricately together to form a small hole through the center. There were small pieces of moss agate stones attached to the webbing, and dangling from the willow ring were thin strips of leather, holding eagle feathers at the ends. The tawny color of the leather matched the willow frame and created a soothing earth tone mixed with the multi-green moss agates.

Molly had gotten it when she was eight years old. Her parents took her on a vacation to the States to see the Grand Canyon. She remembers standing atop that great precipice and feeling like she'd never again see anything so grand and majestic in all the rest of her life. The sun above mixed light with the shadow of clouds upon the deep ravines of the canyon walls. From her perch atop one of the chasm walls, she could see the layers of rock all piled atop each other to create a multi-colored mass of carved out stone. The abyss before her stretched to such lengths that she thought if she fell, she'd just keep on falling, deep into the mountainside of reds and oranges and sun-scorched earth.

Her parents practically had to drag her from the sight, saying that the park would close soon and the sun was going down soon as well. But all Molly wanted to do was stay out there to watch the sun go down, and see if the canyon was as regal in the starlight as it was in the sun.

As her parents readied themselves for departure from the park, she had wandered off not far to a small stand near the edge of the cliffside. As she got closer to it, she saw the Native American trinkets and weaves and feathers dangling from the outcrop, painted stone and animal hide hung along the back wall of the small shop stand. Leaning over the narrow wood counter was an old Native American woman with feathers and beads woven into her long, dark hair, her face showing strength her body could not hold.

Molly walked closer to the woman and stood before her counter, staring at her curiously, catching the woman's dark, cavernous eyes. She smiles, and the deep wrinkles of her leathered skin gather together warmly. "Hello, little one."

Molly stares wonderingly at the woman.

The Native pulls back from behind the counter and turns to one of the walls beside her, reaching up to grab something off the wall. Molly cocks her head, looking at her.

The woman turns back to the countertop and lays before Molly's eyes a web of tawny leather and sinew, with feathers and gems dangling from it's strings. "A dreamcatcher," the woman says softly, reverently, in answer to Molly's questioning eyes.

"What's a dreamcatcher?"

The woman smiles again, and Molly almost loses her eyes in her face. "It protects you in your sleep, child. When the nightmares come, this web here catches them and holds them until the light of dawn appears and they parish. But the good dreams," the woman pauses a moment to look over at the canyon beside them, "Ah, the good dreams. The dreamcatcher lets them pass through the web and into the feathers, where they travel to the dreamer, and fill the canyons in you." She held it out to Molly.

Molly was confused for a second, not quite understanding the old woman's words, and then she realized the Indian was giving her the dreamcatcher. "But, my parents have no more money."

The Indian woman smiles again. "A gift. For the little one."

Molly looks at her one more time before reaching for the dreamcatcher and holding it before her. She grinned at it, and looked back up at the Native. "What do I do with it?" she asked.

"Hang it above your bed, child. And when you have reached adulthood, there will be no more need for it. It will have filled you with enough dreams to overflow like the river banks."

Molly looked at the gems woven into the sinew string and fingered them gently, watching the deep swirl of greens glint in the light of the slowly lowering sun. "What are these?"

The woman took a stone in her hand and turned it over in her palm. "It is a moss agate. It comes from the Yellowstone River in the north." She let the stone drop from her fingers. "Agates are one of our most ancient stones. They offer protection, particularly from nightmares, and healing by attracting strength." The woman looked at Molly then and caught her gaze within her own dark, brewing one.

There was a pride that seemed to seep into the woman then, something honorable and reverent that straightened her back and strengthened her stance. She opened her mouth. "It is the agate of the warrior."

Molly blinked and grinned sheepishly at the woman. "Sorry, ma'am, but I'm no warrior."

The woman leaned over the counter to look more closely at Molly. "Do not underestimate yourself, little one. I see great strength in you. I see a warrior, child."

Molly looked back down to the dreamcatcher. When she looked back up, the Native had reached a hand over to touch one of the feathers attached to the leather strap. "Do you know what feather this is?" she asked.

Molly shook her head silently.

The Indian smiled down at the feather and began to twirl it within her fingers. "It is an eagle feather, valued greatly by my people. We have great respect for the eagle, who flies with courage and fortitude." She looked up into Molly's eyes. "Like you, child."

Molly smiled at the woman, though she still thought she was mistaken. She took the dreamcatcher in her hands and held it beneath her arm, ready to carry the gift back over to her parents and show them the keepsake.

Molly looked over to the canyon side and back over to the Native American woman. When Molly looked back to the cliffside, she raised a finger and pointed at the great expanse. "What did that?" she asked.

"Water, my child," the old woman answered. "That great and yet unseen force in the tapestry of our lives."

Molly was amazed. Could water really do such a thing? Could something so small as a trickle really make such a chasm? She hadn't thought that such vast imprints could be made by such small forces.

She thanked the woman and turned around to walk back to her parents, who were ready and prepared to leave the rock face now.

When she had returned home, she went to her bed and hung the dreamcatcher above her pillow, where it stayed for many years to come.

She had listened to the woman, and when she reached adulthood, she reluctantly took down the dreamcatcher. But there were too many dreams invested in it for her to part with it completely yet. So she carried it in her pockets, close to her no matter where she was, what she was doing.

Molly had thought being a wife and a mother and a housekeeper was not brave at all. She didn't think she had played the great warrior. But still, it was nice to carry that reminder around with her, just in case it should decide to show itself one day.

Molly Weaseley never considered herself grand or influential, and she hardly thought herself courageous. But then, in the darkest hours of the war, she had remembered the water, and how it had carved that great canyon with nothing but patience and time. That's all Molly Weaseley needed. Patience and time.

When the time came, she would carve the greatest canyon of them all.


End file.
